


The Sexual Awakening of Isabelle Rostain, by Isabelle Rostain

by Victor2K



Category: Isabelle de Paris (Paris no Isabelle)
Genre: Bisexuality, Coming of Age, F/F, F/M, Gen, Lesbian Sex, Sexual, Sexual Content, Yuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:56:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22795912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Victor2K/pseuds/Victor2K
Summary: A rather obscure anime gives out a story about a girl who becomes some sort of hero to save Paris from Prussian invasionAfter the war, and she sees her family and friends perish, only the touch of a woman can make her regain gusto for life. And to unleash the pleasurable things she will enjoy from then on
Relationships: Isabelle Rostain/Various





	1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER

If you are reading this, it means that you have the knowledge of the content of this story and wants to read it because you want to. Otherwise, you must leave this right now. This story is only to be read for people of proper age or in places where adult content  
is not forbidden. And this story is a parody using characters/situations/places that belong to other people and/or companies, that didn't endorsed me for that.  
These characters/situations/places are only borrowed for being used on this fictional piece, that is only to be taken as fiction, nothing else.  
If you are aware with everything that I wrote there, enjoy the reading. If not, better you walk out

Content of the Story: no sex (prologue). Tags about scenes in each chapter)  
Subject: Isabelle de Paris (Paris no Isabelle)  
Characters involved: Isabelle Rostain/Jeannette Lagrange (OC)/Ian Daniels (OC)/various other OCS  
Author: Victor2K 

Isabelle de Paris (Paris no Isabelle) – The Sexual Awakening of Isabelle Rostain, by Isabelle Rostain

PROLOGUE (OR WHEN I THOUGHT I WAS DEAD AND, THEN, I WAS ALIVE AGAIN)

When I write these words, I don’t know to expect how you, dear reader, would react about what I have to talk about. This is not a fairytale or a story where the ending is tragic. This is a veritable story about how a woman overcame the worst that could happen in her life and found her salvation in the arms of people she never imagined she would. And through ways she would not wonder even in her deepest and secret dreams or thoughts.

This woman is me. Isabelle Rostain.

It’s been seven years since the (Franco-Prussian) War. Seven years since my life turned upside down and I, until now, was never capable to recover properly. Until the war, I was just a young girl from a noble family, used with everything the best life has to give, a sheltered life and protected from the burdens of outside life.

But then, it happened…

There isn’t a day where I do not cry or shiver when remembering of what happened. The war changed my life in ways I can’t fathom to explain in few words. My sheltered life was broken and I decided to enlist myself to save Paris from Prussians and the traitors who wanted to destroy the city for their own profit.

But this sacrifice resulted in losing my family, friends, the people who I loved. The greed of war took them away from me, getting their payment in blood and destroying the world I lived until that. I tried to save Paris and the fate rewarded me in the worst way possible. Only God in His mercy knows why I was spared from the same fate as them.

I cry only to remember and relive the scenes, on how I could not stop to see the people I loved die. Daily, I refrain to remember that, because my heart aches profoundly while my memories play the tragic book my life was when I got 15. A tragedy I am only recovering right now.

Since these days, I wandered around the streets of Paris, without anything since the war took me everything I had. I did everything to support myself, things I wouldn’t even think to do if my life remained unblemished. It was when I had my first contact with the carnal things, the things of the body. Yes, I was as prostitute in the streets, but it wasn’t the best thing I did. Just to remember that, I feel disgust to think about the people I had to ‘serve’ and the things they made me do.

Don’t know why, but quite survived being just ‘Isabelle de Paris’. For a moment, I thought I would be wandering forever trying to find a path to save myself or die in the process. Again, God had mercy on my soul and allowed me to live.

I thought I wouldn’t be saved from that until Jeannette came.

Everything I have now I have because of her. Everything I am it’s because of Jeannette Lagrange.

My friend, my lover… my everything… 

She was the one who saved me, who brought me into a state of peace. And the one who made me loved the pleasures of the flesh and become the most desired woman in France, I guess.

This is why I am writing these. Because of Jeanette, but not because of her. There was Ian too, my lover, my friend and also my everything. Because of my family, friends and the ones I lost, here is my salute.

And this is how my story begins..,

***


	2. JEANNETTE LAGRANGE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A story is to begin. And a woman is about to change Isabelle's life forever

JEANNETTE LAGRANGE

Wandering around the streets of Paris for year (or years, I lost completely the notion of time), I tried to shake up my life and restore my dignity. But it was hard. The only places where I found myself living were the seediest in France, the ones a woman from my origin would never step in her lifetime.

But I did. I did the worse things I had to do to survive in the streets. I only did not rob or commit any violent crime, but other things, like resorting to sell my body as a prostitute; yes I can say I did. 

Remembering of that, I confess still gives me shivers that make me almost throw up with disgust of those memories. For now, I refrain to even mention. Maybe sometime I will, but to me, I prefer not to remember about it…

All those years I spent wandering and trying to shake off the bruises and scars the war gave to me. If you knew what I did to at least try to survive, you wouldn’t believe what I have to speak, but I am not ready to dare remembering. I believed I wouldn’t stand a day or more alive, being subject to thinks that I still do not want to remember.

I believed that some force punished me because of what happened with my family. I thought it was a divine punishment because I failed in the mission to save Paris and the people I loved from dying. Days and nights were longer parades of suffering, pain, and sadness.

But they always say there is a light at the end of the tunnel… I never believed in that before Jeanette Lagrange came to my life.

She IS the light at the end of my tunnel. And how did I found it was something out of sheer luck.

A friend of our family, Jacques Riston, found me in the street one day, trying to get whatever things my very paltry money could buy. I tried to run but he recognized me and took me out of the streets to his place, where I found a temporary shelter for a few days. He had moved from Paris to the south, but learned about what happened with my family and decided to help me to recover my life.

“You don’t have to stay in Paris. Here brings you not pleasant feelings. I shall take you with me to Cannes”

“Cannes?”

“I know somebody who can help you there. Remember Jeannette Lagrange?”

Here is the time where I have to begin talking about my savior and the one who, without doubt, I have to credit (Jacques as well, but her even more) for being alive writing these words. The Lagranges were a family who had a manor closer to ours in Paris and our families were friends and often visited each other.

They had only one daughter, Jeannette. The last memory of hers was when she was about eight or nine years old, before her family moved to the south. Her parents always brought her to play with me and my sister Geneviève, we spending the afternoons at the lawn or our place or hers, running, playing with dolls and making fairytales out of nowhere. Jeanette was a lovely girl, but she always had that resignation of being alone all the time. Not having a brother or sister quite disappointed her and she always told us how she envied Geneviève and I for having each other.

That, however, never made Jeannette a bitter girl and she was one of the best friends I can deem them the title. I only seen her once or twice since she moved to Cannes with her family, where her father ran the family’s businesses and luckily ran from the chaos Paris became during the invasion.

Mr. Riston managed to send a letter to her and she told she would be gladly welcoming of me there. He then arranged transportation and, without even stop to breathe, we just took the route to Cannes, to where my future would be bright and pleasant. During the trip, Jacques informed me that her parents had died a few years ago and she was lonely at the big house, saying how Jeannette daily lamented the fact she lived alone and needed company. And who else better than another young lady to take care of her?

“I don’t see Jeannette in years. I imagine how she is today”

The breeze of the sea brought me a sensation of peace when we arrived in Cannes. I couldn’t help amazing myself while seeing the city, the beaches, the Mediterranean, the homes, the streets… things I didn’t know that existed even if I lived all my life in Paris, the center of the world. I didn’t know by then why I felt fine when I got there, I guessed maybe because I was happy to finally leave Paris to restart my life.

Finally, we arrived to the Lagrange Manor. The house itself didn’t surprise me, as it looked like my old place, being at a road somewhat far from the coast. Quickly I saw the servants come to me and get my luggage, two men in black jackets and trousers and another who apparently was her butler.

“Miss Rostain?”

“Yes”

“Follow me, please”

I walked behind him, his name Berthold, a man with a little bit of German accent on him and wearing a white wig. A man apparently older than my father was, but his strength while helping the servants while carrying my luggage (Jacques and I managed to buy a few clothes and stuff after he found me) didn’t give him any ‘old man’ looks.

Once inside, two maids, one an overweight older woman with brown hair, which really looked like the one we had in my house, and the other being a slender brunette, were at the door, as they followed me to the room where Jeannette was to wait for her new ‘lady in waiting’.

“Mademoiselle Jeannette, mademoiselle Rostain”

When I was allowed to enter the big living room, she was looking through the window to the road and the city where the hills oversaw. When she turned around to see me, she giggled and smiled to me.

“Isabelle! Look at you! It’s been a while!”


End file.
